


an unstoppable force, an immovable object

by mystified (starryfuck)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Bondage, Dom/sub, M/M, Sex, Smut, blood/injury/scar etc mention, i forgot, ish, more feelings than i intended but that is ok, rope, that was the word ty, whats it called again when someone is tied up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-05
Updated: 2020-09-05
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:35:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26265064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starryfuck/pseuds/mystified
Summary: it takes practice to unlearn the lessons of violence etched into your bones.
Relationships: Kyoutani Kentarou/Tsukishima Kei
Comments: 4
Kudos: 41





	an unstoppable force, an immovable object

**Author's Note:**

> for ate elo (whenever you see this)

* * *

_you do not have to be good. _

_ you do not have to walk on your knees _

_ for a hundred miles through the desert repenting. _

_ you only have to let the soft animal of your body _

_ love what it loves. _

_ tell me about despair, yours, and i will tell you mine. _

— Mary Oliver, Wild Geese

* * *

under kei’s hands, kentaro was water.

if the moon controlled the change of tides with the pull of its gravity, kei demanded the unravelling of the body below him with just a hand.

and kentaro found it fucking humiliating.

his hips twitched at any and all movements of kei’s fingers whispering along his pelvis. the slow wind of them down to his inner thigh drew his breath from his lungs and he found that he didn’t care for it back.

kei found his throne between kentaro’s legs, his own folded underneath him. he looked down his nose at the man’s face, flushed with both embarrassment and irritation, the two shades unidentifiable next to each other when painted prettily on a snarling face. 

kei challenged it with a smirk.

“fuck you.” 

“you can’t.” 

kentaro’s top lip drew back, bearing wicked fangs as he yanked against the restraints around his wrists and ankles, shaking the bed. red rope like thick blood kept his limbs trapped, body caged— but not unmoving.

kei watched kentaro struggle, defiance in every involuntary shudder. eyes wandering face, wandering hands on trembling hip.

the moon makes no expression when it watches the thrash of waves along sand and jagged cliff-faces. 

kei observes.

he pressed his thumb onto burning skin and dragged it along the hard length of kentaro’s dick. he revelled in the tumbling moan that escaped his mouth. 

he placed a hand on the muscle of kentaro’s thigh, the other wrapping around his length, stroking gently— an action much too soft. 

kentaro didn’t want tenderness. 

to love was to inflict. 

to inflict love onto his body with scrapes of teeth and the scratch of nails. love was not fragile. he wanted to be ripped apart, hands clawing at his chest until the tissue of his lungs tore and his heart hung out of the gaping wound. 

kentaro never stayed within limits. 

but the man in front of him couldn’t care less. he sat and continued to coax stuttered breaths with a loose fist, face indifferent as he took in the movement of kentaro’s body like violent waves.

a twist of kei’s wrist and kentaro gasped, hips snapping up in an impatient insistence for more.

“you fucking bastard.”

kei quirked his eyebrow. 

“you’re not in a position to insult me.” 

“what the fuck does that mean, hah? my mouth works. you’re not in the fucking position to—“ 

kei slid a finger into kentaro, his words crumbling into a mess of unintelligible sounds. his hips rose as he pulled against the restraints on his wrists, the movement yanking the bed forward only for it to hit back against the wall. 

kei laughed. dainty. cruel. 

it made kentaro’s stomach twist. 

“good effort,” he said, voice lathered with fake pity. honeyed words that made kentaro realise he was _ starving. _

he wanted to reach up and grab kei’s chin, bring him down from his throne and eat him alive. taste the sour of his tongue until it made his own face pucker. to devour. 

but the finger in him turned into two and he didn’t realise he had let his legs spread further apart. 

kei smirked, free hand smoothing over the plane of his thigh, thumb running over scars, fingers following stretch marks. 

still, kentaro wanted him to scorch. for kei to leave his fingerprints on his skin like rocks thrown through car windows. shattered glass embedded in the seats. to desire was to take. to sear your name across what was yours. there was nothing kind about the taking, even less in the giving. 

kei stretched him open, the burn nowhere near the pain he wanted to feel. 

“more.”

“no.”

“ _ more.” _

“no.”

kentaro tried to peel his upper lip back but his mouth wouldn’t comply. staggered breaths. restricted moans. he knew his voice sounded like the jarring clatter of silverware against countertop, against dirty marble floor. 

he fought to keep his eyelids from squeezing shut, kei’s long fingers wrapped around his length tightening. 

kei plucked a gasp from kentaro’s mouth as he added a third finger. the easy smirk on his face showed no signs of disappearing, and his stupid mouth continued to talk.

“i wonder what the team would think, seeing you like this.”

through gritted teeth. through shaky breath. 

“like what?” 

a laugh. 

(unkind).

“pretty.”

maybe it was imagined, but kentaro felt his heart seize. he was not pretty. nothing from the scowl on his face to the callouses on his hands to the scars on his legs said  _ pretty. _

yet there he was, splayed out like a gift. arms above his head, fingers grasping at rope. legs trembling and bent at the knee as much as they could when tied to the posts, a blind follower to the hands that did not give him what he wanted. 

but maybe that was better.

kei removed his hand from kentaro’s dick, picking up the bottle of discarded lube. he pulled his fingers out of his hole and a whine spilled from kentaro’s lips, stopped short when he realised he was doing it. 

the corner of kei’s mouth twitched upward. 

“needy.”

“no.”

a smile.

(smug).

“cute.”

a growl, halfway out his mouth, stumbled and fell back onto his tongue as a moan. kei had coated his dick in lube and slid into kentaro, jaw clenched at the tightness. 

“fuck,” kentaro whispered, eyes screwing shut. deliberate. he did not want to see the concern on kei’s face. they had done this enough times before that he had learned to read the line between his brow and the firm press of his lips as concern.

concern he did not need. he did not want. he did not  _ like. _

concern meant weakness. crying at the snap of thunder. flinching at a ball flying at your face. the grind of glass beneath boot on concrete as you see the ugly mosaic of debris in the back seat of your car and its insistent alarm that pierces your ears but it was you that threw the rock.

concern meant someone cared.

and he was bound to let them down. 

“kentaro.”

“move.”

“no.”

“kei.”

“kentaro.”

“please.”

kei’s hands ran up his stomach, dragging up his neck and tracing along his jaw. 

“look at me.”

“no.”

“kentaro.”

“kei.”

“please.”

and who was he not to comply? his traitorous body was smitten with the way kei touched him. touched him like he was made of porcelain. like the strings of a harp. delicate.  _ so _ delicate. 

he looked up at the man above him, whose palms were now pressed into the pillow by the sides of his head. 

a smile.

(kind).

and it was the warmth of kentaro’s neck. soft lips on skin. fingers coaxing groans. the fast pace guided by  _ need _ until it was the quiet beg hidden in the upwards cant of kentaro’s hips, until the small of his back became the turning point of the arch of his spine.

the tug of something invisible wrapped around his gut split him open. the tight coil of thorns in kentaro’s body that kei nurtured bloomed into a garden and he allowed the breathy moan that left his mouth to escape into the air of the bedroom. 

and when it was kei’s hand that met kentaro’s cheek— not in a fist, but as a caress, what then? 

and when kentaro was not the violent thrash of waves, but the foam that was left on the shore, would the moon still still watch over him? if his body was engulfed in the ocean, deep below the surface, would kei hold his hand and help his battered lungs breathe? 

cleaning up shattered glass was made easier with another. 

**Author's Note:**

> kyoutani is a capricorn venus and mars. he is a BABY.


End file.
